


kiss me hard before you go

by duckmoles, starxreactor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bittersweet Ending, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-13 17:09:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20586047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duckmoles/pseuds/duckmoles, https://archiveofourown.org/users/starxreactor/pseuds/starxreactor
Summary: “I love you, you know that?” Tony says just after popping another grape into Steve’s mouth. He watches as Steve’s jaw works, chewing and then swallowing.Steve smiles up at Tony with a bright, toothy grin. “I love you, too.”“I’m going to miss you,” Tony continues. “I’m going to call you everyday, okay? And—and, during the holidays I’ll show up at your house and we can—we can—sit together on the balcony, and—”The last day of summer, and it's time to hold on to what you might lose.





	kiss me hard before you go

**Author's Note:**

> This is for round 1 of the [Lights on Park Ave Steve/Tony prompt challenge!](https://lightsonparkave.tumblr.com/post/187477129667/lightsonparkave-welcome-to-the-first-round-of) Go check it out!!

Tony kicks his feet up against the dashboard, huffing. “Steve,” he calls out, for the third time in as many minutes, “we almost there?” 

Tony isn’t looking at Steve, but he knows Steve is scowling, that jagged look he reserves exclusively for the bullies who pick exclusively on unknowing freshmen, teachers with too little salary to care about the crowds of restless students, and Tony. Tony doesn’t mind it. From him, it’s practically a French kiss. 

Steve bangs his fist against the dashboard, and the car swerves slightly. 

“Watch the road!” Tony yelps. 

“You,” Steve says, through gritted teeth, and doesn’t finish the thought. There’s sweat on his brow, the result of one last summer heatwave and a too old car with no functioning air conditioning. Tony’s not doing much better. 

Tony leans back in his chair, rolling down the window and letting the wind blow over his face. It doesn’t help much. “Seriously, you said this was a short drive. You said that two hours ago.” 

Steve spares a glance at Tony, then back onto the road. He sighs, the tension in his shoulders dissipating somewhat. “I know, I know,” he says. “That was before we spent an hour just getting out of Manhattan. We’re almost there, I promise.” 

True to his word, two minutes later Steve pulls over. They’ve ended up in the mountains, of all places, the air cooler here, even though Tony can still feel the sweat prickling at his skin. The trees are mostly still green, but they’ve started to turn in places, orange and red hues stark against the lushness. Tony leans up against the car and watches as Steve rummages in the trunk of his mother’s car. Tony’s offered to fix it up more than a few times - hell, even buy a new one, but the Rogers family is stubborn, if nothing else. 

Steve hefts a damn picnic basket out of the trunk. “Woah,” Tony says as he runs over to help him with it. It’s heavy, and Tony’s surprised Steve was able to get it out of the car in the first place. They carry it, together, into the small picnicking area they’ve parked in. 

Steve’s blushing, whether from embarrassment or the heat or the exertion, Tony doesn’t know. Probably a mix of all three. “We were supposed to get here earlier,” he says, glancing upwards. The sun’s starting to set, the sky fading from blue to warmer tones, red and purple and pink. He’s fidgeting somewhat, bouncing from one foot to the other. 

“Hey.” Tony reaches out, places a hand on Steve’s arm. “Romantic sunset picnic? Steve, you shouldn’t have. What’d you pack? You know I expect nothing less than caviar.” 

Steve ducks his head, the flush on his cheeks blooming from a light pink to a deep red. “You know I can’t get things like that,” he says softly. 

Tony hurries to correct him. “No, no, it was a joke. A bad one, clearly. I’m sure whatever it is, I’ll love it.” And if he doesn’t, then he’ll damn well fake it the entire time. He reaches for the basket, pulling it closer to him, and opens it. Inside is an array of sandwiches, grapes, and— “Where’d you get the wine?”

Steve, if it’s possible, blushes even harder. “I… saved up some of my salary for it. I figure, you’re going to college tomorrow, we can celebrate a little bit.” Steve is that one kid in their grade who refuses to drink until he’s of age, and judges Tony whenever he does exactly that, so the fact that he did this just for Tony is—touching.  
  
Tony pulls out some of the sandwiches, and tilts his head up to smirk at Steve. The sun is setting behind Steve, creating a halo of light around his head. “Breaking the law, Rogers? Maybe I _ have _ been a bad influence on you. How’d you get it, anyway? Fake ID?”  
  
Steve shakes his head. He takes out a fucking red-and-white checkered blanket and lays it out over the grass before responding. “I got my mom to buy it. I guess she trusts me enough to not do anything stupid.”

That’s not surprising. Steve is the most responsible person Tony has ever met, and he’s met dozens of businessmen and politicians. “I mean, she’s not wrong,” Tony says as he sprawls out on the blanket, crossing his arms behind his head. The grass is already plush and soft even without the blanket, there’s a soft breeze blowing in the air, and the sky is painted the most stunning shades of reds and golds. Higher up there’s a deep blue, the color of Steve’s eyes, and Tony thinks of all the paintings he’s watched Steve create over the years—even before they started dating.

He realizes, he’s never going to see that again. Not regularly, at least. They’re not going to be able to spend time together like they used to, because they’re off to their own colleges. Tony’s heading to MIT, while Steve is on a full scholarship to NYU.

Never again will their paths twine together like ribbons. There’s a split dividing them, and they’re reaching that in these last few hours together. 

And just like that, bitter, sharp tears prick at Tony’s eyes. He blinks them away, willing them not to fall. He’s not going to waste his last moments with Steve crying. He’s going to—cherish them, lock them away in his heart until the rest of time. 

Steve sighs as he sits down next to Tony, those damn sandwiches still in his hands. He hands one to Tony—well, he sets it on his chest—before digging into his own. After a few moments, he pauses, blinking down at Tony owlishly. “You’re not hungry?”

Tony pushes himself up on his elbows. He lost whatever appetite he had when the realization struck him, but he figures he should eat to make Steve happy. “No, I am,” he assures, picking the sandwich off of his chest and then sitting up. Just to prove it, he takes a huge bite and hums in delight. It really _ does _taste good. Mrs. Rogers must have made them. 

Steve seemingly accepts that as he goes back to his food. They eat in silence for a few minutes, finishing off all of the sandwiches. After, Steve stands up and takes out the grapes and wine, along with two plastic cups. 

Tony takes the wine bottle and uncorks it with the bottle opener Steve had handed him with practiced ease, then pours a little bit in each cup. “Is this your first time drinking?” he asks curiously, watching Steve. The sun has almost completely set by now, leaving a dusky blue canvas behind. Tony can hear crickets chirping while fireflies flash, briefly lit stars against the growing dark. 

“Nah, I’ve had a few sips from time to time. I just don’t make a habit of it.” There’s no disapproving note in Steve’s tone, but Tony knows by now that he doesn’t like it when Tony drinks. Tony knows Steve worries about him, considering how young Tony was when he first started, and his dad’s alcoholism, and how much he can drink in one sitting. 

Sometimes, Tony worries too, but it’s too late to stop. Besides, he’s heard that people don’t fit into college if they’re not drinking, so he figures, might as well keep at it. 

He doesn’t say that to Steve, though, because that little frown in between his eyebrows will only get deeper, and Tony doesn’t want to ruin their time together. Just for Steve, he’ll stick to only having one glass of wine tonight. He clinks their glasses together, and takes a sip of the deep red liquid. 

Most people his age don’t like wine, but Tony has a soft spot for it. His mom’s Italian wine is his favorite, though this is not too bad either. Maybe it’s just because Steve went through the trouble of getting it for him, but it tastes extra sweet. He laughs at Steve’s pinched look.

After, Steve lies back while Tony feeds him grapes. It’s nice. It’s relaxing. They don’t have to talk to enjoy each other’s company. Just being there with him is enough for Tony. He feels a soft, warm glow in his chest, like a gentle candle, or one of the fireflies lazily drifting about, as he stares down at the man he loves. The sky is completely dark now, silvery stars twinkling in the distance. They should probably leave soon, because Tony has to wake up early tomorrow, but he can’t bring himself to move. 

“I love you, you know that?” he says just after popping another grape into Steve’s mouth. He watches as Steve’s jaw works, chewing and then swallowing.

Steve smiles up at Tony with a bright, toothy grin. “I love you, too.”

“I’m going to miss you,” Tony continues. “I’m going to call you everyday, okay? And—and, during the holidays I’ll show up at your house and we can—we can—sit together on the balcony, and—”

“Tony, you’re crying,” Steve says in alarm, sitting up.

Tony touches a hand to his cheek, feeling wetness. He _ is _ crying. He bites his lip and says, quiet, “I’m just not ready to not be at your side anymore.” 

Steve carefully takes Tony’s face in his hands, wiping away the errant tears with his thumb. His expression is one of tenderness, love, as soft as a fleecy cloud. “Me neither,” he admits softly. “I really am going to miss you, Tony. But we’ll keep in touch, I swear.” He draws Tony in for a hug, and Tony clings to his shoulders, holding him tight and wishing it could always be like that.

Eventually, he gets his emotions under control. He can already tell that his ears and nose are red, both from the crying and from the embarrassment of breaking down like that. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, “I didn’t—didn’t want to ruin the moment.”  
  
“You didn’t,” Steve says, without any grounds for argument in his tone. “It’s a hard time for both of us. I cried, like, five times before I picked you up.”

“Oh,” Tony says, focusing his gaze on the forgotten grapes. He picks one off the bunch and puts it into his mouth. “I—okay.” Steve is like Tony, in some ways. He’s been the calmer, more collected one out of the two of them. He always tries to be strong, to control his emotions. That’s not to say he doesn’t feel, but when he’s with others he doesn’t let his guard down. That Steve’s willingly admitting how much he cried is novel. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “But we can get through it. I know we can.”  
  
“Through the power of love?” Tony asks with a hint of irony, glancing at Steve from the corner of his eye. There’s a smile on his face to bely his words. 

Steve rolls his eyes, clearly not falling for the bait. “Sure, through the power of love.” Steve leans forward and pecks Tony on the lip, pressing his forehead against Tony’s after. “We’ll be fine. We’ll get through this. Together.”  
  
“Together,” Tony echoes, breathing in deeply, trying to settle his racing nerves. “We can—we can do that. Okay. Okay, we’re good.” 

Steve pulls away, brushing a hand over Tony’s cheek as he looks at him with pure love in his eyes, a bright, sparkling blue. Tony puts his hand over Steve’s for a moment, before letting go as Steve withdraws his hand. 

“We should go soon,” Tony says, pointedly glancing up at the sky, but he doesn’t move.

“We should,” Steve agrees, sitting still. 

They glance at each other, and smile.

In the end, they fall asleep right there on the picnic blanket, Steve’s head pillowed on Tony’s chest. He’s going to regret that in the morning, but right here, right now, he’s with the man he loves, the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. They’re only eighteen, but Tony knows that what he feels is love. Pure, deep, _ real _ love. There’ll never be another summer like this, he knows, warm and careful and comfortable and so free, caught in the space between the safe embrace of childhood and the precarious drop into the rest of their lives. Next time they have a chance to be together alone like this, it won’t be like this at all. They’ll have different lives, be different people. Tony feels so empty and bereft already.

Tony breathes, a steady in and out.. Stark men are iron, he thinks, and he’s not going to let something like distance get in the way of the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He takes one last look at Steve, at his ocean eyes, his sandy skin, pulls him closer to chest, buries his nose into his sunshine hair, and drifts off into the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to my wonderful co-author [starxreactor!](https://starxxreactor.tumblr.com) who wrote most of it! you rock <3


End file.
